


Falling In

by charrrmed



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charrrmed/pseuds/charrrmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After separately trying to kill Damon, Bonnie and Jeremy connect the night of the fair. Bonnie hits the bottle while Jeremy focuses on the hash, and the two fall into bed. We come in on the morning after. Timeline: Post Season 2, episode 2 and pre episode 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling In

After a night well spent together, sleep slowly bade goodbye to Bonnie. She became aware of her breathing pattern, more aware of her position on the bed (she was lying on her left side with her arm bent at the elbow and cushioned under her ribcage), how her cheek was fused with the pillow. She slowly became aware of the mass that lightly touched her leg. It was another leg; it was hairy, and the truth of her situation was her first “good morning” of the day: she wasn’t in her bed; that hairy leg belonged to a boy; she’d spent last night with Jeremy Gilbert; she’d slept with Jeremy Gilbert; she was in Jeremy Gilbert’s bed, and he was in it, too. 

And he was her second “good morning.”

“Have you been watching me?” was her raspy response. 

He was on his back, his head turned to look at her, his legs splayed with one of them touching hers, and he was shirtless. He also presently wore a frown. “No.”

Her lips came together in a pout and she looked past his body to the light that crashed against his drawn curtains. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t moved.” He looked away from her to watch the ceiling.

Bonnie frowned. Were they having a conversation? A _nice_ morning after? She really wanted to freak out, but he was so calm that she was sure she’d end up looking like....well, she wasn’t sure what she’d look like. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking.” He looked at her again and said pointedly, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she dead-panned and threw the covers off of them and shot in an upright position. Jeremy wasn’t the only one who was shirtless. Gasping, she covered her breasts but her half-nakedness was enough to make Jeremy sit up as well. She was completely naked while he’d managed to put on boxers sometime between when they dragged each other’s clothes off and when they fell asleep.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh....” she looked at him and he raised his eyebrows, a light in his eyes. “Oh my God. Um. Okay.”

“You remember what happened, right?”

She looked at him.

“Cause you were hitting those bottles pretty hard.”

Oh, she remembered. 

/

After setting Damon Salvatore on fire and being stopped by Elena, she’d walked away from the brunette and the smoking vampire. Elena had found her mere minutes later and had attempted to talk to her, but she’d asked to be left alone. Caroline was a vampire; Caroline had just killed someone. A person she’d grown up with was now a monster, one just like Damon. She herself had just attempted to burn someone to death. She needed to think because the whole thing felt too much like a dream even though she’d lived it a couple of minutes ago. How could Caroline be a vampire? Caroline Forbes, aspiring Southern Belle, a vampire? 

She’d found a section of the fair where the crowd was thin and she’d sat on the ground  by herself. Her cheeks were still wet, though she’d stopped crying. Her wavy hair had lost its shine and body and hung limp around her shoulders.

For Jeremy’s part, he’d gone back to the fair after his abandoned attempt to kill Damon. He’d gotten there, stake in hand, but his conviction had dissipated as soon as he’d heard the man enter the domicile. He later told Bonnie that he didn’t know why he’d stopped, but as soon as Damon had walked in he’d thought back to the man’s forearm around his throat and his hand on his head while he’d flailed about, trying to grasp at breath, trying to free himself, wondering if anything was going to help him, Elena’s pleas bouncing against his eardrums, enhancing his panic. It had felt like he was pushing against a cement wall. He wanted to kill Damon, but was it possible?

Once he’d returned to the fair, it hadn’t been hard to find someone willing to sell him a stash of cannabis. The walk from the Salvatore boarding house to the fair had reignited his hatred for Damon, because he thought about the vampire’s forearm squeezing against his throat _again_ earlier at the fair; he thought about Damon’s aloofness in the face of his anger at being murdered by him; he thought about how Damon had shown him that his anger didn’t change the fact that Damon was stronger, could kill him again, and was unrepentant about that fact; he’d shown it to him by slyly slipping his ring off his finger and throwing the small piece of metal at his forehead before sauntering away to worry about things that were more important than him, more important than his anger, more important than his _life_.

Bonnie had spotted him before he’d seen her. She’d been sitting with her arms encasing her legs when she’d seen a figure dressed in black stop in her line of sight in order to drag on what she’d perceived as a cigarette. The figure had taken the stick out of his mouth in order to press on it, and that’s when she noticed the person’s shape, the stance. There was something familiar about it, and when they took off their hoody and looked behind them, their face swung in her direction, and she saw that it was Jeremy.

She kept staring and when he turned to look in front of him, he noticed her sitting on the ground. He squinted when she didn’t look away. He couldn’t make out her exact features, so he hesitantly stepped closer to her and then recognition lit his eyes.

Even though he’d recognized her, he’d meant to move on. His sister, just like his aunt, had a thing about him smoking, and Bonnie Bennett was his sister’s best friend. He didn’t put it past her to give him a lecture and afterward she’d probably tell Elena. 

But she didn’t seem interested in what he was smoking. She looked....downtrodden, and then he noticed how she held herself. Why was she sitting on the ground? Bonnie Bennett is one of the popular girls at Mystic Falls high school; the only thing that had kept Vicky from ragging on her the way she had on the rest of the cheerleaders was Bonnie being true friends with Matt. She used to be a constant visitor at their house back in middle school, and she and Vicky had had some conversations.

Bonnie Bennett was popular; Bonnie Bennett was always happy and when she wasn’t she frowned and complained pretty freely. Sitting on the ground alone didn’t seem her style.

So he went up to her and said, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He waited for that smile. She always asked him, “How’s it going?” with a close-lipped, crooked smile. He sat next to her when he realized he was waiting in vein. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She didn’t look at him. She looked at the littered ground.

“Why not?”

Her chuckle came out as a rush of air. “Because of a lot of reasons.”

He remembered that her grandmother had passed. He’d liked Sheila Bennett a lot even though he frequently worried that he’d do something to earn her criticism. Good thing he barely saw her after he started smoking.

“I tried to kill someone,” she said with no emotion in her voice.

He didn’t take her seriously until she said, “Damon Salvatore.”

“When?”

“Maybe an hour or an hour and a half ago. I haven’t really been keeping time.”

“What’d you do?”

“I set him on fire.”

“What?”

She looked at him then. Emotion wasn’t in her voice because it had taken residence in her green eyes. They brimmed with pain, and she looked a little lost.

She didn’t repeat herself so he asked, “How?”

She smiled. “With a spell. I wet him and then chanted a spell to turn the water into fire, and I just kept repeating the spell because I wanted him to burn.”  

She was getting angry, and she realized that she hadn’t been angry when she’d set Damon on fire. She’d been calm, finely focused, her emotions settled. Now she felt the need to rant. She’d wanted Damon to burn so badly that she’d be able to see his insides by the time she was done.

Jeremy absorbed what she said and faced forward. She mimicked him. Then he said, “I tried to kill him, too.” When she looked at him, he looked at her and said, “Tonight.”

“When?”

“I just got back. From his house,” he said when she cocked her head. “I had a stake and I had drugged his scotch or whiskey or whatever the hell he was drinking, and I was ready. But I didn’t do it.”

“Why not?!” She did not think of Jeremy’s incapability. From what she was hearing, he was very capable. Where she’d failed, he should have succeeded.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, his expression dour. “I have no freaking idea,” and he took a drag off the joint.

“And he just let you go?”

“Yeah. But don’t worry; he got in his hit earlier tonight.”

“He _hit_ you?”

“Choked me.”

“God,” she scoffed, and she wished she could go back and finish the job on Damon. Maybe it was ridiculous of her to be shocked at Damon choking Jeremy considering Elena had told her that he’d snapped Jeremy’s neck a couple of days ago, but she thought that _failing_ to murder someone might give one a better perspective on the value of that someone’s life. She thought wrong where Damon Salvatore was concerned. 

/

Bonnie sat up on her haunches, and her thighs protested. Her memories from the night before were so vivid that it was as if Jeremy was touching her, his fingers imprinting her thighs, his head buried in her cunt, his tongue pressed against her clit, his hot breath fanning her pubic hair, Jeremy putting her legs above her head as he methodically drove his dick inside of her.

“Oh my God,” she said as yearning brought a small tremor to her sore thighs.

/

It was a little harder for Jeremy to find someone willing to give him alcohol. He had offered to share his joint with her. She’d taken one drag. The fact that she’d known exactly what to do had intrigued him. He didn’t know much about Bonnie Bennett, but he couldn’t imagine that she was a secret stoner, yet she obviously had experience with smoking weed. 

Bonnie had mellowed out from the single hit, but she’d told Jeremy that she wanted something else. Smoking would make her think too much. She did not want to think.

Watching Jeremy decide who had easy access to alcohol and who didn’t, who would be willing to share and who wouldn’t, Bonnie mused that it was as if he had a superpower. The power to identify suppliers. But he explained to her that he was going off of the facts and rumors he’d heard from Vicky.

Once they’d procured some beer bottles, they’d found another part of the fair grounds, one devoid of passing security, and they’d taken root. And where smoking made Bonnie think a lot, drinking made her talk a lot. Where the single hit had mellowed her out, the beer excited her. She explained everything to Jeremy; she started from the moment she tried to kill Damon and backtracked to give him reasons for why Damon Salvatore was a bad guy. The conversation was almost one-sided at times. Bonnie would ask questions and then she’d answer herself.

“What is the _point_ of him living, you know? Whatishegonnado? Is he gonna join a monas---a mones---a church? Become a nun?”

“I think you mean a priest,” Jeremy said slowly. He was sitting, and she was standing, and she had a nice voice. It was fun to see her in an excited face, grimacing, scoffing, and rolling her eyes.

“They’re the same thing,” she defended. “He’s not gonna find God. Why is he gonna live? And Caroline’s a vampire.”

“Vicky was a vampire. Did Damon turn her, too?”

“No, he didn’t. His blood was in her system. Katherine turned her. You know about Katherine, right?”

“Yeah, Elena gave me the freaky run-down.” It had been a weird conversation. It had basically consisted of Elena talking point by point about everything that was going on in Mystic Falls. The whole thing had been so clinical that she might as well have asked, “Any questions?” at the end.

“Katherine, Damon, they’re one in the same. It’s his fault she’s here. He brought allofthisbaggage.”

“He told me about Anna dying.”

“Who’s Anna?”

“This girl I was dating. I mean I guess she was a woman.” His brain was slow, and his voice was raspier than usual. “She was like four hundred something years old, but she looked as old as me.”

“Your vampire was a girlfriend? I mean....your girlfriend was a vampire? You had a girlfriend after Vicky? I didn’t know this.”

“Yeah, because we know stuff like that about each other,” he said sarcastically with a smile.

She huffed out a breath and pouted her lips in acquiescence.  

“She died two weeks ago. My uncle killed her.”

“John?”

“Yeah. Just because she was a vampire. I don’t get that. But I want to kill Damon, so I’m wondering if maybe he has a personal story? Maybe a vampire killed him once, you know? Or something. But then....how does it happen that he hates _all_ vampires?”

“You should ask him.”

“He killed my girlfriend and isn’t one bit sorry about it.”

“Oh. Scratch the asking. Did you love her?”

He contemplated his blunt. “Not really. I thought she was weird at first.” He smiled. “I mean she was, but I was thinking weird as in clingy and stalkerish, not weird as in vampire who’s strong and fast.”

Bonnie nodded as if she’d been in that position before. “I’m guessing she was killed the night of the device?”

“The night all those vampires died? Yeah.”

“Hmm. That was me. I didn’t undo the spell. I’d love to use it on Damon right now. He almost died that night, too.”

Jeremy looked at her. She was nonchalant about the information. He didn’t know what to feel, or at least....he didn’t know what he should be feeling. There was a device; that’s why Anna had started screaming in the bathroom; it’s what had allowed the deputies to cart her away. And apparently a spell had been involved and so, too, had Bonnie? Apparently Elena hadn’t told him everything. Probably because there was too much stuff for her to remember. 

What he settled on was this: Bonnie had been able to make a device (or did she only _have_ the device? Whatever) that led to the killing of many vampires. Yes, he wished they could use it on Damon Salvatore.

“Why didn’t you let him die?”

She sighed and repeated his earlier answer: “I don’t know. Stefan was there and then Elena was there, and Stefan went in, and I just felt like too much time had passed for me to be able to let it happen, you know? But I gave Stefan a warning. I told him that if Damon spilled one drop of innocentblood, thenIwouldkillhim.”

“I’m innocent,” Jeremy pointed out. “I mean my blood wasn’t _spilled_ , but I died, and I’m innocent.”

“I know. I wish I’d killed him.”

/

“I need to get out of here,” Bonnie said.

Jeremy had gotten out of bed and was looking at his drawn curtains. “Is today a school day?”

“I don’t know. Holy _crap_.”

“What?” He focused his attention on her, hidden as she was behind his light blue sheets.

“I have a _headache_ ,” she said like she’d just had an epiphany. How could she not have realized it before? And now that she had, it seemed like the headache was punishing her for not noticing its presence sooner. Her head was pounding.

“I’ll get you some Aleve.” Jeremy moved to the door but stopped short when a series of  sharp knocks sounded. He looked to Bonnie with wide eyes and watched her wince in suffering as a consequence of her own eyes widening. She braved the headache and quickly shook her head, letting him know that she did not want to be found in this position.

Jeremy held his right pointer finger to his lips and then opened the door just a crack. “Aunt Jenna,” he greeted in boyish warmth. “Good morning.”

“Who’s in there?” Jenna asked sternly. 

“No one.”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear it’s no one. I’m in here by myself.”

“Mind if I come in?”

“Yes, I’m only wearing boxers.”

“I heard a female voice.”

“I’m watching tv.”

“You look like you just woke up.”

“The magic of technology: I can bring my computer to bed.”

“That’s so very cute. Listen Jeremy, we were in a bad place before and I’d really like it if we didn’t slide backwards. I don’t wanna be tough; I don’t want to come up with a list of dos and don’ts, but,” she leaned close to him and dropped her voice to a whisper, “I also don’t want this house to turn into a _brothel_. I know you’re still hurting over Vicky Donovan----”

She had no idea about Anna. Jeremy cut her off, “Aunt Jenna, it’s fine. I’m fine. No one’s in here, and I promise I’m not planning on giving Mystic Falls its first brothel. Well, it’s first _official_ brothel.”

Jenna slowly turned towards the stairs, her eyes still on him, clearly not believing him.

“Save me some breakfast!” he said as a goodbye. He smiled at her retreating stare and closed the door.

Bonnie closed her eyes and blew out the breath she’d been holding. When she opened them, Jeremy’s eyebrows were raised and he was looking at her like they’d just dodged a bullet. “Your aunt smiled whenever she saw me. Now she thinks I’m helping you open a brothel,” she said in a voice lower than the one she’d been using before Jenna came.

“She doesn’t know it’s you,” he consoled, his volume matching hers, and she liked the way he curved his mouth to one side to smile at her.

Jeremy’s attention slipped from the hand patting her lifeless hair to the medium brown breast that had spilled over the bed sheet she was holding. Bonnie had nice, dark areolas spreading out from her nipples, and they tasted even better. 

“I need to leave,” she repeated right before she noticed that he was looking at her exposed breast. She snatched the sheet up and her blood flowed closer to her skin, giving her a glow. “Does this not bother you?” she asked incredulously.

“ _Bother_ me? You’re....bothered by what happened last night?” 

The tone of his voice was the personification of a turtle retreating into its shell. His mouth tightened, and he straightened, and Bonnie wanted to explain. 

“You’re right, we need to get you out of here. I just hope you remember that your car is still at the fair.”

Bonnie closed her eyes. She remembered laughing into his chest and telling him that she was too impaired to drive. He’d told her that it was no big deal, that they could walk, that he’d walked to the fair to begin with. He had offered to walk her home before suggesting they come to his house instead. Bonnie had looked up at him and decided to head to his place. Their looks had turned flirty and they’d started to touch each other a lot, so maybe she could go to his place and the flirting and touching could continue.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you know,” Bonnie said.

“Don’t spare my feelings.” 

Jeremy retrieved his pants from his desk chair and shook his head at the fact that he was having a repeat of Vicky. She’d been ashamed of being with him, too. She’d been embarrassed, completely immersed when the moment was happening, but embarrassed in the aftermath. She’d been killed before they’d gotten to a point where they were _both_ comfortable with being together, where she wasn’t looking over her shoulder to make sure Tyler Lockwood didn’t see her hanging out with “Gilbert” of all people.

He’d had great sex with Bonnie Bennett (he was of the opinion that weed gave him stronger orgasms, but there’d been something else the night before), and by the number of times and by how deeply she’d sighed, he knew she’d been enjoying herself, and he’d continued doing what he was doing, and he’d switched up what he was doing to see if maybe this could pull sighs from her and if maybe that could pull sighs from her, and he tucked away what did and made sure to not repeat what didn’t. 

But it was the next day, now, and she wanted to leave so that she could talk herself into maintaining her previous conceptions about him.

“I didn’t _mean_ it like that,” she said as he zipped up his jeans, and she struggled out of the bed, because she had to make sure that the sheet was completely wrapped around her. “But seriously, you’re my best friend’s brother, and I’m your sister’s best friend. Don’t tell me you’ve thought of me like this.”

“None of that mattered last night,” he pointed out.

“No, it didn’t, but not a whole lot mattered last night.”

“That’s not true. Damon Salvatore, you wanting to kill him, me hating him, my little thing, and Caroline Forbes mattered.” The “little thing” was his suicide attempt.

Bonnie bit her lip. Right. The correct phrasing was: nothing mattered once they started kissing while walking to his house.

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you think I meant. And I’m not saying that to spare your feelings. But I need to get out of here, because, first of all, your aunt is home---”

At that moment they heard the shower turn on in Jeremy’s shared bathroom. They looked at each other, and the same name crossed their minds: Elena.

“And second,” Bonnie whispered as she walked up to him. “You’re right: there was a lot going on last night. Damon Salvatore is a monster; I tried to kill him. I actually tried to take a life, and Elena stopped me, and my best friend’s a monster now, and I actually don’t even know what happened to her after Stefan took her, and to top it all off, _we_ slept together last night. _I_ slept with you. I....I got drunk, was publicly intoxicated, and then we had sex,” she said, like she was having a second epiphany.

She looked so surprised by what she’d just said that Jeremy frowned and asked, “Was that your first time or something?”

He expected a “no, of course not.” Instead Bonnie looked at him like he’d guessed her most guarded secret.

“You were a virgin?” he asked too loudly.

“Shh!”

“You were a virgin?” he whispered. She’d put a staying hand on his hip as he’d been entering her, but he’d assumed it was due to a combination of two things: number one, his dick is pretty thick. Number two, he figured it had been a while for her. 

“Wow,” he said. The only time virginity had been an issue for him was when _he’d_ one with Vicky. He hadn’t been sober then either and neither had she. She’d picked up on how he’d been looking at her at school and during their conversations, and she’d decided to grant him mercy and had given him a hand job. He had quickly become overwhelmed, and she’d taken pleasure in his quickness; he’d gasped for her to stop when he’d felt his pleasure peaking, but she’d only gone faster, and he’d tumbled over, making a face she’d assured him weeks afterward was comical, and it had all taken four minutes. She’d giggled about it as he’d caught his breath, and, though he’d been pink with embarrassment, he hadn’t been able to take it as an insult.

When they’d met up next, he’d asked to reciprocate. She had turned him down, and she’d continued to turn him down, and that was when he’d started to feel insulted, because she had clearly pitied him for being younger than her.

But she’d eventually given him a chance, after telling him that she needed to be high “for this.” He’d said that was fine and then had boldly told her to tell him what to do. She’d been surprised as well as turned off by the fact that she had to tell him how to eat her out. She’d been of the opinion that he was supposed to know, and he would’ve if he’d had more experience. So he’d gone down, and she’d watched and then she’d directed him, and the result had been so good that she’d gripped his head and closed her thighs around it. She’d been eaten heartily and with dedication, because Jeremy had known that she was set on giving him one chance and one chance only.

By the time she couldn’t orgasm anymore, her determination to give him one chance had been washed away by her come. 

“You’re not gonna make a thing out of this, are you?” Bonnie asked. Because he could not make a thing out of it before she could, namely by sorting everything out for herself.

“I’m not making a thing, I’m just....I was kind of planning on asking you something.”

“What?”

“If you sighed like that every time or only when you’re drunk.”

“I didn’t sigh _that_ much.”

“You sighed _a lot_.”

/

The flat of his toes dug into the bed, and his calves were tight as he let her cunt swallow his dick. She was wrapped around him, one of her palms splayed on his back, her legs locked on his waist, one of her arms locked around his neck, and her mouth stationed next to his ear where her sighs spilled out and she occasionally pressed her cheek against his in order to bite his ear, something that hasn’t failed to coax moans out of him.

Her sighs were involuntary, heavenly, and warm; it was as if he drove the burdens out of her with each forward stroke of his dick.

“More,” she sighed, and he gave her more. He disengaged his upper body from hers, hooked his arms under her knees, placed her knees on his shoulders, all without separating their anatomies. She whined long and loud when he sank deeper into her, and he felt her legs quickly tighten in pleasure before they relaxed.

“Oh!” She squeaked every time he dropped into her. Her face was closed tight and her nose was scrunched, and her mouth was open, and then she was sighing forcefully each time he pounded into her.

Her hands grabbed the sheets they’d managed to wrinkle in their rolling around, and she felt her cunt tighten around his dick every time he came in, and although he only pulled away for less than a second, hardly enough for his dick to be close to slipping out of her, a sadness gripped her heart, a sadness that was pushed out in a contented, grateful, lustful sigh each time he plowed in.

“Fuck.Yes,” and the syllables were in time with the dropping of his hips, and then she was shifting, lifting her hips to meet him, and she was close, and he started going faster to get her there, and she wanted him to stop, and she wanted it to last, but she wanted to come, and she wanted him to come while inside of her, wanted that thick dick to empty while inside her, and she was sighing so much that he briefly wondered if she was going to choke on her saliva.

She came and she creamed around his dick, expelled a thick white mess that coated the condom and dripped down onto her ass, and she was tightening all around him, and his bedroom light and his bedroom lamp were flickering, and there was a strange feeling inside him at the same time, like something was plowing his insides, from his brain, to his ears, to his arms, to his chest, to his stomach, to his dick, to his balls, to his legs. He was enveloped by it, sweetly weakened by it, and it felt unnatural, and it felt good, and he came, and he expelled his own thick white mess into the condom.

/

“You’re staring at me,” Bonnie said softly. 

“Sorry.” He made a point of turning his neck to look behind him at the window, and she chuckled.

When he gave her his attention, she looked down at his boxers and saw that whatever he’d been thinking of, probably the previous night and her virginity she figured, had made him pitch a tent.

She jumped when three knocks came to the bathroom door. She took two steps away from it, horrified, because in her mind the next step was for Elena to open the door and discover her.

Jeremy was thinking more rationally and moved to stand against the door, his hand hovering above the knob just in case Elena thought to turn it to come in. “Yeah?” he answered.

“Hey Jer, you up?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m about to take a shower, and then I was thinking we could hang out? Maybe go to a movie or the bowling lanes?”

Jeremy lightly dropped his head against the door. He knew this gesture was about his attempt to become a vampire. She’d tried to talk to him about it the night after, in between cleaning up the blood in their kitchen, dodging Jenna’s confusion, waiting for John at the hospital, and worrying about Caroline’s medical condition. She’d taken a pause to ask him about what happened and he’d brushed her off, saying he did not want to talk about it. She’d pressed, and he’d pushed back, and she’d backed off. The look in her eyes, like she felt that his quick impatience was a warning sign that he was still unstable, that he might try to kill himself again, had made him uneasy so he’d softened his tone but still kept the same answer: he didn’t want to talk about it yet.

He still did not want to talk about it. He’d figured it out his issue, but how was he supposed to explain it to her? She wouldn’t get it. He felt like explaining it to her would make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. Why try to become a walking cold body over _that_? It sounded trivial when he thought about explaining it to her.

He’d explained it a little bit to Bonnie the night before, mostly his feelings about Damon killing him. 

Did Elena know that Damon harassed him the night before and that he’d tried to kill him because of it? Was their impending talk opened to _that_ conversation? But again, he didn’t feel like she’d get it. How was he supposed to tell her about it, exactly? 

_“He chocked me again.”_

And then what would happen? He needed to know more about how Damon figured into  Elena’s life. He only knew that Damon was Stefan’s brother and apparently had something for Elena when he was drunk. Has he apologized to Elena for murdering him?

“Uh, I’m not really in the mood.”

It was quiet for a second, and he pictured her wondering what to say next. “I just think it’d be nice for us to hang out. We haven’t done that in a while. A lot’s going on, and I just think....it’d be nice to spend some time together.”

Jeremy tapped his head against the door again. Caroline was a vampire now. He hadn’t had enough time since finding out from Bonnie to consider that Bonnie wasn’t the only one taking it hard.

While Jeremy considered melting a little to let Elena be privy to his thoughts and feelings, Bonnie raked her eyes over his form. He had muscles. In all the right places. He needed to wear better clothes because she’d never noticed this. Well, she’d never _looked_ , but he’d worn all black yesterday, plus a hoodie. She hadn’t realized how muscular and hard his body was until she’d been clinging to him, squeezing him, during her last orgasm the previous night. 

“You’re staring.”

“What?” She looked up to find him with his back against the door.

“You were staring.”

Instead of answering, to defend, to deny, she inhaled. 

“You still have that headache?”

“Yeah. She’s gone?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d think about it, that maybe we could do something later. But you need to get out of here now; I won’t be able to distract both her and Jenna.”

“Okay,” she said hurriedly. “I need to....change.”

He raised his eyebrows and turned to face the bathroom door.

Bonnie didn’t move. “Jeremy.”

“Yeah?”

She took a step toward his lean back. “You can’t tell _anyone_ about what happened last night.”

“Yeah, because I have _so_ many friends.”

He smiled when he heard her exhale roughly through her nose. He turned, and she was closer than he’d perceived her voice. Her perfect brows were up, a sign that she was waiting for his agreement. Medium green eyes bore up at him, eyes about which she’d freak out if she was aware of the decorative morning crust hanging in the inner corners.

“Jeremy,” she prodded.

“Are you gonna hurt me with your witch powers?” 

The spray of water from the shower drowned their voices.

“Maybe. Curses are a thing, you know, and there are a couple in my grams’ grimoire. Just promise me.”

He smiled, and Bonnie thought one thing, something she’d thought the night before, but the thought was clearer now: Jeremy Gilbert is taller than her.

“Promise,” he said huskily.

/

Jeremy succeeded in distracting Jenna, much to Bonnie’s relief. It had taken a while, Jenna watching over Jeremy’s shoulder (and then over her shoulder once Jeremy maneuvered them so that Jenna’s back was to the living room) for a fleeing teenage girl, six minutes that felt like sixteen to Bonnie as she waited on the stairs, occasionally looking behind her to make sure Elena wasn’t standing there, arms crossed and judging, and wishing with all her heart that she had super hearing so that she could hear if, for whatever reason, Elena had stepped out of the shower but left the water running.

She descended the stairs, her heart still and waiting for something beneath her feet to creak and alert Jenna to her presence, just like in the movies. Her keys and phone were held tight in her hand. She was three steps from the floor, and, once it sounded like Jenna was completely taken in by how much Jeremy was actually looking forward to school on Monday because Mr. Saltzman made history a lot more interesting than Mr. Tanner had (a lie. He’d enjoyed Tanner’s history class. Despite Tanner, yes, but still), Bonnie ate up the rest of the steps and then took large steps to the front door. She almost twisted the handle when she reached it, having put it into her mind that Jeremy had unlocked it for her, but she stilled her hand, closed her eyes tight to telekinetically flip and reverse the locks, prayed that Jenna hadn’t heard the bolts hitting against wood, twisted the knob, squeezed her body between the door and the frame, left the door slightly opened and hoped Jeremy would be the one to find it in that state, mentally apologized to Jeremy in case Jenna found it and confirmed her suspicion, and made a heart-pounding dash away from the two-story house with the bedroom that had contained her drunken tryst.

Now she sat in the parking lot of the fair. It was sparsely populated with the cars of the clean-up crew. Her hands were on the wheel, and she could finally be amused by her situation.

She had walked the streets of Mystic Falls drunk. She knew a couple of her nosy neighbors would love to report such a thing to her father because they were convinced that she got up to no good while he was gone.

Her eyes widened at the thought of her father. He wasn’t gone right now. He was home, home where she hadn’t been last night. Wincing, she pulled out her phone. She had three missed calls from her dad, two from Elena, one text from her dad, one from Elena, and three voice messages.

Her dad’s text asked her where she was, told her that he’d called three times, that he’d left a message, told her that he hoped she was somewhere safe, and told her that she was in big trouble if she’d gotten so intoxicated the night before that she hadn’t been able to make it home. 

Elena’s text said she had called her but had gotten the machine, and she hoped she was okay.

Elena’s first voicemail asked her where she was because she’d been at the fair after hours with Stefan and had seen her car on their way out, that she’d checked, and that she was sure it was her car.

Bonnie’s eyes widened the more she listened, and a weight settled in her stomach.

Elena’s second message said that her dad had called, that he hadn’t been able to reach Caroline, that he was asking where she was and that she’d covered for her and said she was too dizzy from drinking to drive and that she was spending the night at her place.

“If you only knew,” Bonnie muttered. She deleted her messages and sent her dad a text, telling him she was on her way home. She texted Elena that she was okay and mentally hoped she wouldn’t ask any questions. She got a response less than a minute later: _OK_.

Well then.

Bonnie leaned her head on the headrest and sighed. She closed her eyes and thought about how she’d never gotten that Aleve. Then she thought about the soreness in her thighs, and the sensitivity in her clit, and the fact that Jeremy had been spreading her labia majora with his fingers last night. 

She’d slept with Jeremy Gilbert. She put her hands on her face and laughed. “Oh my God,” she said and dragged out the last word as she let her hands slide down her face. “Jeremy Gilbert. Jeremy Gilbert!” she squeaked. 

Jeremy Gilbert gave amazing head. Jeremy Gilbert had hands that felt nice on her body.  The wanna be punk was a good kisser. She’d been naked in front of Elena’s brother.

Elena’s brother had a nice dick that made her palm tingle when she grasped it.

“Holy crap.” She put her closed fists against her forehead.

She’d done it. The big event, what Caroline had been waiting for for a while now. She pictured the blonde sleazing, “Welcome to the club.” 

She put her hands down and smiled. And then the smile reversed into a frown, because Caroline was a vampire. A vampire just like Damon Salvatore, Damon Salvatore whom she’d tried to kill last night. Caroline was dangerous just like Damon. Caroline was changed now, different. She’d murdered someone and she was going to murder many more, just like Damon had.

She wanted to go back to when her biggest worry was being found naked in Jeremy’s room by Jenna.

But when she got home her dad would tell her, after a couple of questions and a suspicious eye that she’d know was similar to the one Jenna had given Jeremy, that a guy had stopped by, named Stefan Salvatore; he’d been looking for her, and he wanted her to meet him at the Grille.

She wanted to go back to when she’d been using her abdominal muscles to hoist her hips up and down and up and down to get more of Jeremy’s dick as she came and creamed on him.

She wanted to go back to when he was jerking above her and grunting into his bed next to her ear as he came, sounding as if he was trying to work through something stuck in his throat.

But when she would tentatively meet Stefan at the Grille, convinced that he was going to have words with her about the murder attempt on Damon, she would be asked to make a daylight ring for Caroline. 

She wanted to go back.

But Caroline was a vampire.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this story made me think of an alternate reason for Jeremy's remark about sex spells, as well as Bonnie's reaction, in Masquerade. Imagine if they'd already slept together at that point! ;)


End file.
